


Sweet Dreams

by softestsky



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, Peter encounters drugged Juno, Rita insterts herself and makes the entire fic better, angst and fluff (but mostly fluff), but I'm glad it turned out like this, happy sappy dorks, this really got away from me it was going to be a one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestsky/pseuds/softestsky
Summary: He steps towards me, stumbles, and catches himself against the wall. “Saw you just last night, didn't I?”“Last night?” I ask. Something is very wrong here.“You're in my apartment again. Must be dreaming. I dream about you all the time, you know.”My version of the Reunion Fic. Peter comes back to find Juno drugged, convinced that he's dreaming. In which Juno expects fantasy and receives reality; Peter hopes for closure and receives confession; Rita doesn't know what she expected but it sure wasn't this.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey there, Nureyev.”

I'm not sure what I was expecting. Shock or anger would be appropriate reactions for a detective who comes home to find the thief he left in a hotel room leaning against his bookshelf, although I must admit I was hoping he would make a dramatic swoon into my arms. But he just stands in the doorway and looks me over, calmly. Almost too calmly. 

“You're not surprised to see me?” I ask, cautiously. The sight of him after all these months is strange. I've thought of him so many times; now that it's really happening, it feels surreal. 

I wasn't planning on coming back. Initial sadness burned off into anger, and I raged my way to Neptune, to Charon, through the solar system and out into the universe. I wanted to be as far as possible from Juno Steel. I tried hating him for a while, as I threw myself into heists and robberies more complex than any I had ever completed before. But the distraction was temporary and the hate was a false, flimsy thing. I try to be honest with myself, at least, and I knew how horribly I was missing him. I abandoned my usual methods of drawing information out of my victims between kisses and whispers. It was too painful. I'd put my knife to their neck after the first caress, and that's almost as efficient as seduction if you want you learn someone's secrets- almost. I found myself getting clumsy. I nearly was caught a few times. 

And so I returned. Juno Steel may well hate me, but he owes me an explanation, at least. Some degree of closure. 

He steps towards me, stumbles, and catches himself against the wall. “Saw you just last night, didn't I?” 

“Last night?” I ask. 

“You're in my apartment again. Must be dreaming. I dream about you all the time, ya know.” 

Something's very wrong here. I move closer, and he doesn't object as I take him by the shoulders and peer into his face. “Juno, are you drunk?” 

“Nah,” he says. “Just good old Cecil. Remind me to kill him someday, yeah?” 

That glazed look in his eyes is familiar. “Did Cecil drug you?” I ask. 

“Yeah, think so. He sure was mad. Said something about an experiment. Neurochemicals? I'll try anything once.” 

“Oh, Juno…” I check him over. Eyes dilated, pulse rapid, skin flushed; I recognize his symptoms. There won't be any lasting damage, but he'll be totally inhibited until the drugs get out of his system. “I'm afraid you're correct about the neurochemicals, but they should wear off soon enough.”

“That's… that’s a boring dream. Usually they're more exciting than this.” 

My hands are still on his shoulders. Even now, the closeness is slightly dizzying. I look him right in the eyes- one his familiar blue, the other a metallic replacement for the one he lost to Miasma’s Martian parasite. It is not a beautiful eye. It makes no attempt to hide its purpose. My fault. So much of this is my fault. 

“I'm not a dream, Juno,” I tell him. 

“See, that's exactly what a dream would say.” He seems very satisfied with this reasoning. “I'm not gonna fall for it this time. I'll just wake up and feel sad, ya know? Not worth it.” 

I take his hand and bring it up to touch the side of my face. “See?” I say. “I'm here. I'm real.” He smiles slightly, running his fingers across my cheek and then petting my hair. 

“You feel real. I’m remembering you… pretty well, I guess.” And then he takes away his hand and looks away. “I miss you a lot, you know.” 

There is significant pain behind those words, and my heart breaks a little, hearing them. At the same time, I feel a twinge of hope. He missed me. “I've missed you too,” I tell him. 

“You're a dream. You can’t miss me because you don’t exist.”

It's going to be impossible to get through to him tonight. “Okay, Juno,” I say. “Let’s get you to bed.” He comes with me willingly as I lead him towards his bedroom. His gait is uneven, and I steady him with an arm around his waist. 

“Chivalry,” he mutters, leaning against me and narrowly avoiding knocking into the doorframe. “You're a goddamn Robin Hood. How was I supposed to resist?”

“I am the epitome of chivalry.” I turn towards him and flash my teeth. It's a showman’s grin, my well practiced half-seductive smile, but there's real happiness behind it. He's really here, and he's complimenting me and not trying to kill me, even if he is practically incoherent. This is good. 

He looks at me for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You don't have to do that, you know.” 

“Do what?”

“That. Just, all that.” He gestures vaguely towards me. “Have you ever tried not being so… attractive all the time? The rest of us get by fine without it.”

“Oh, Juno.” I have to laugh at this. “I have a feeling you'll regret this in the morning.”

“Yeah, I usually do,” he mumbles. 

“Anyway,” I say, “Don't be so hard on yourself. You're quite a lovely lady, you know.”

“And there you go again.” 

None of this fits with what I thought he felt about me. I gently guide him to sit on the edge of his bed. “You seem to like me well enough, Juno,” I say, sitting beside him. “I thought you might be angry with me for coming back, considering the fact that you left me.”

“I’m not mad.” He opens his mouth, as if to give an explanation, then closes it. He gestures aimlessly. “You know I left because of me. Because I’m not brave enough to leave Mars, and I’m not- not good enough. For you, I mean. So that adventure you had planned would just- not work. Life kinda sucks, you know? You know. You're a dream, so you’re just my own brain talking at me.”

This is new, and it’s almost worse that if he’d left because of me. I don't pry. He seems upset by the topic, and besides, it feels wrong to make him tell me things when he's like this. He can explain it on his own time, I hope. Later. I just have one more question. 

“Juno, if I were to show up again, would you want me back?” 

“Doesn't matter. You wouldn't be interested anymore, and I still wouldn't want to leave Mars.”

“Humour me.”

He sighs. “Of course I would want you back.”

My heart leaps. I lean in close, looking him right in the eye. “Juno, I promise you that I am not a dream. In the morning I'll be here, and we can work ourselves out a compromise. I'm not losing you again.”

“Okay.” He smiles. “I'd- I’d like that, Nureyev.”

And then he's leaning in. I'm paralyzed for a moment by the sight of him: dark lashes fluttering closed, full lips parted slightly as he comes closer to me. He's tantalizing; I'd like to kiss him hard and never let him go. Instead I stop him with a finger to his lips. 

“I'm afraid you're far too inebriated right now, Juno. I can't kiss you.” 

“Oh.” He looks down. “Sorry. I thought you wanted…” 

“As a matter of fact, I do want to, but you're hardly aware of what's going on. Tomorrow, once you have your senses about you again, I'd be happy to kiss you as many times as you like.” 

“Oh.” He's pleasantly flustered by this. “That’s. Um. Good.”

I find him some clean sleepwear for him and send him into the bathroom to change. While he's changing, I clear all the clothes and dishes and crime scene evidence off his bed. When he returns, I help him into the bed. He seems a little confused by my fussing but allows me to pull the blankets over him. 

“Goodnight, Juno,” I say. “I'm looking forward to seeing you in the morning.”

He shakes his head at me in a sad sort of way, like you might at a child who doesn't know any better. “You still don't understand that you're just a dream. A nice one, but you'll be gone when I fall asleep.” 

“I'll be there.” I look him right in the eye. “Do you trust me, Juno?” He nods. “Good,” I say. “Now go to sleep.” 

I'm halfway to the door when I hear him calling my name. My first name. Has he done that before? Just “Peter,” with so much vulnerability behind it? 

I turn to look at him. “Yes, Juno?”

“Stay with me?” His voice is so quiet, so hesitant. He looks at me, and I can't make myself turn away

“Of course.”

I take my shoes and belt off and leave them next to the bed. My ear cuff and glasses go on his bedside table, among the detritus of empty mugs and scraps of paper. I slide under the blankets beside him. He doesn't hesitate before curling up against my body. Gently, I wrap my arms around him. He leans into my chest, letting out a little hum of comfort. His hand comes up to hold mine. His breathing slows until we inhale and exhale in unison. I squeeze my eyes closed and breathe in the scent of his hair, and I hold him close. He feels so warm and real in my arms. I never want to let him go. 

“Juno Steel,” I whisper, “you deserve everything. You deserve every star in the sky and every planet in the universe. It's been a long time since I saw you last, plenty of time to draw conclusions about how undeserving you are, and you know what? Every beautiful sight I saw reminded me of you. Every wonder I saw was less wonderful observed by me alone. Every trial I went through was more painful without you beside me. It has all been incomplete since I saw you last. You changed my world, Juno. I'm not losing you again.” 

He is already asleep, his hand still loosely clutching mine. I feel overwhelmed with happiness. Here I am, for the first time in so long. Tomorrow can wait. I let myself eyes drift closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea came to me a while back, and I've been working on it on and off for a few months. It's been a nice distraction from all the awfulness going on in canon right now. It just keeps growing- the Peter chapter required a Juno chapter, and then Rita entered the plot quite suddenly and insisted on staying. I'm really happy with it, though. I'm not sure how long it's going to end up being. Maybe five or six chapters. Tell me if you liked this weird idea of mine!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for some emotions? Because I'm having so many, it seems only fair to foist them on you. Enjoy!

Gentle hands and sparkling eyes and fox’s teeth. He held me close in the dark and whispered loving words into my ear. As I wake up, hazy images swirl lazily through my mind. I keep my eyes closed, savoring the dream for one moment longer. It was a beautiful one. I can still hear his voice; I can still smell that cologne of his, lingering on my sheets. 

My eyes blink open. Yes, I can smell the cologne, and it's more than a memory. The scent is all too real around me. A board creaks outside my door and I’m sitting bolt upright up in an instant. My heart pounds. Is it really-

The door swings open and there he is. Peter Nureyev, tall and slim and smiling, brilliant in the morning sun. One of my chipped mugs is in his hand. “Good morning, Juno,” he says. “Would you like some coffee?” 

I can only gape as he enters my room. Most of what I can remember from last night is vague and uncertain, but it clearly wasn't a dream. “Why-” I start. “What happened? The hell are you doing here?” 

“I was passing by,” he says, “and I thought I'd drop in. You were quite drugged when I turned up.” 

“Drugged?” I think for a moment. Realize that my head is throbbing and my joints feel stiff. Remember an unsuccessful business meeting from the night before. “Oh. Cecil.” 

“Indeed. You really need to stop interacting with that man. How are you feeling?” 

“I'm fine…” He sits on the edge of the bed, setting the coffee mug on the bedside table. I flinch backwards as he reaches toward me. “What are you doing?” 

“Relax, Juno. I just need to make sure you're recovering alright.” He touches two slender fingers to the side of my neck to feel my pulse. His touch really shouldn't make my breath catch like this. The way he peers into my eyes is perfectly businesslike and should really not make my heart flutter so ridiculously, but I can't help myself. He's so close. He's overwhelming. My mind floods with memories of his hands on my wrists and his mouth on my skin-

“Juno, are you listening to me?”

“What? Sorry. Yes. Yes.” My attention snaps back to the present. “What did you say?” 

“I asked how much you remember from last night.” He leans back, picking up the coffee cup and taking a sip. I do my best to clear my mind of irrelevant memories. 

“I was at the Kanagawa’s. Cecil invited me. I thought he might want to be friends again, and you can't exactly refuse an offer like that from someone like him. But of course he tied me up… Injected me with something nasty. He just wanted to have some fun, I think. I got away before it really set in, and then I took a cab home, and you were here. I remember we were in bed-” My face goes hot. “Wait, did we-” 

“No, no no!” he says. “You were far too drugged for that.” His voice dips low. “Besides, if we had, you would certainly remember.” 

“I- okay.” It's too early in the morning for me to deal with this. 

“You did berate me for being- what's the phrase you used- oh yes, ‘too attractive,’” he says. “And you tried to kiss me.” 

Trust me to show up to a reunion with the man I left drugged out of my skull and falling all over him. My face must be tomato-red right now. Godammit, Steel. 

“It's okay, Juno,” he says. “I told you I'd be very happy to kiss you in the morning, as many times as you wanted.” He leans in slightly. “The offer still stands.” 

“Aaaargh.” I cover my face like some sort of stupid embarrassed twelve year old. “Would you please stop flirting?” 

“Of course,” he says. When I look up he is grinning at me in amusement, which is more attractive than I'd like to admit. 

“I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. I tried to stay as proper as possible last night.”

“I remember you getting pretty cuddly.” 

“I hope you don't mind that. You see, you were convinced I was a dream that would be gone when you woke up. Staying with you through the night was the best way I could find to assure you that I was not a specter that would vanish in the dark with no explanation, leaving you to wake up alone and abandoned by someone you truly cared for-” he cuts himself off with a very pointed look.

And here we are, at the moment I've been dreading since I saw him. I make myself look him in the eyes. “I'm sorry, Nureyev.” 

“I know.” There is no anger in his voice. He looks at me with a tenderness that is entirely unexpected, but that's Peter Nureyev for you. Kindness isn't what I'm used to, but it's what he runs on, somehow. Maybe that's why I can't figure him out. Maybe he's just too good to be true. 

“I made a shitty decision,” I admit. “I should have told you what was going on.”

“Yes, you should have.” 

“Did I say anything about this last night?”

“You told me about feeling insufficient and afraid to leave Mars. You told me you didn't think it could end up working out between us.” 

I nod. I guess it's out now. No point in denying how pathetic you are, Steel. You put yourself into this mess. “Yeah, that's pretty much how I was feeling,” I say. 

“And how do you feel now, Juno?” he asks, hesitantly. “Last night you said you'd want me back.”

“I don't know, Nureyev.” I let out a sigh, considering how honest to be. “I do- I like seeing you again.”

“I am so glad to hear it.” The tender smile on his face is so bright it hurts. He reaches out and gently takes my hands. Those long, strong fingers wrapped around my mine… I want him to hold my hands forever. I want to lean in and cling tightly to him and never let go. 

I pull my hands away. 

“Look, I would love to go adventuring with you, sure. The thief and the detective, gallivanting across the galaxy, stealing shit and saving humanity, happily ever after- it would make a great TV program, but it's just fantasy.” 

“Juno-” 

“No! Let me finish. I'm not a hero, Nureyev. I'm not strong or brave or smart. I'm a random PI you took a liking to, and you would realize that soon enough. I left you because I didn't want to watch you figure that out. I was afraid that I didn't deserve this- that I didn't deserve you- that you'd see me for what I really was and it would all fall apart just like everything else in my goddamn life!” I'm practically shouting now, and I rein myself in, take a shaky breath, and continue. “Nothing is ever as good as it sounds, and nothing good lasts forever, and you should know that.”

“Oh, Juno.” He is shaken, unsure in a way I've rarely seen from him before. “I could spend hours telling you exactly how brave and beautiful you are, but for now I'll say this: I know better than anyone that nothing lasts forever. I know you may well be right about the impossibility of a life for us together. I'm a criminal, addicted to the glow of new places and unfamiliar experiences. You're a detective, anchored to your planet and hindered, I believe, by a very inaccurate self-estimation. But if you're willing, I think we could find ourselves a compromise.” The confidence is gone from his voice now. His face pleads. “It may never work out. But Juno, I love you too much to not want to give it a try. Will you let me do that?”

I don't know what decision is the right one. This could all go so wrong. I’ve see it happen a thousand times in a thousand case files. Hell, I’ve seen anger and abandonment grow to deadly levels in my own family. The dark, empty spot inside my chest that compelled me to leave the first time is still there- I can't imagine that it'll ever go away- and it's telling me to run. 

But in front of me is Peter Nureyev, looking at me like he believes we could save the world together. Those eyes- that tremble in his voice- they are spots of light against the darkness, and right now they're drowning it out. He loves me too much to not want to give it a try. 

I nod. 

I think there might be a glimmer of tears in his eyes; I only get a glimpse before he throws his arms around me. He holds me tight, and I can't help myself. I melt into the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his heartbeat, the familiar smell of his cologne: a collection of sensations that somehow spell home. There are tears pricking at the inside of my eyelids now too. I cling to Peter and let them fall onto the collar of whatever designer silk shirt he's wearing. Damn thing probably would have cost him more than my apartment, if he'd bothered to obtain it in a legal manner. That makes me let out a sniffly laugh, and Peter doesn't know what I'm thinking but now he's noticed that I'm crying- just a little- and he squeezes me even tighter to his chest and buries his face in my hair.

After a long moment of this he pulls away slightly to look me in the eyes. “Juno, darling,” he says, “we have a lot to talk about, I think, but there'll be time for all that…” his gaze wanders down to my mouth- “...later.” 

“Oh, really?” I attempt a flirtatious note, trying to hide the fact that my heart feels like it's about to beat its way out of my chest. 

“Mmhmm.” He leans in and kisses the side of my neck, pressing his mouth to the delicate skin below my ear. I can't help the shiver that runs down my spine. “Right now,” he murmurs, punctuating his words with a brush of his lips against my jaw, “there's only one thing I'd like to do.” 

I'm not all that innocent of a dame. I've been around the block a quite few times. But Peter… he's something different. I'm hopeless around him. Captivated by his fingers and his eyes and his teeth- captivated, maybe by something beyond them. His slender hands come up to cradle my face, and he's so close now, looking at me like I'm something beautiful, and I'm gone. I let my eyes close. I'm his.

A moment passes. Then another. Then another, each one tragically devoid of silken kisses. I open my eyes to find him looking away, towards the door to my bedroom. 

“Nureyev?” 

“Shh.” He's intent on the door. I hear a slight creaking. The old floorboards protest under light footsteps. 

“The hell is that?” I whisper. He shakes his head. One of his hands goes to his pocket, and I know from experience it's resting on the hilt of a knife. 

The door slams open, revealing a short figure brandishing a baseball bat. “Whoever you are, you'd better get outta this apartment right now!” she shouts. “I know you've got my boss locked up somewhere and I'm gonna get him back from you no good, dirty criminals, so help me-” She takes a look at the room and her forehead creases in confusion. “Hey, I know you!”

Nureyev grins, his hand retreating from the knife. “Rita!” he says. “Lovely to see you again.” 

“Rex Glass! You! Don't you worry Mista Steel, I'll rescue you from this mask-stealing scoundrel in no time.” She advances on us in what she must imagine is a threatening manner. “Your days are over, buster. Rita's here, and I'm gonna knock that smirk right up your-”

“Rita! It's okay. It's okay.” I put my hands out in a placating manner. “He's a friend, I promise.”

She regards me with intense suspicion. “A friend? You said he was the one who stole that mask and ran away, and that his name isn't even Rex Glass, and he was a dangerous criminal-” 

“That's all true, but I promise he's a friend.” 

“Hmmph.” She looks Nureyev up and down. “A friendly dangerous criminal? That seems pretty suspicious.”

“He's not dangerous. I mean, he's actually pretty dangerous and could have killed you five minutes ago if he wanted to, but he didn't because he's a good person and he's on our side.”

“He's a good criminal, then? Like Susie from Death to the Producer? She broke the law, but it was all for the good of justice.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I have no idea who Susie is, but Rita seems relatively satisfied that Nureyev isn't in the middle of kidnapping me.

“What's he doing here?” She takes in my disheveled appearance, our closeness on my bed, the protective hand Nureyev thrust in front of me when she barged through the door. I can see the realization dawn on her face. “You aren't- you're not-” 

“Allow me to explain.” Nureyev takes a calm tone. “I just finished confessing my love for your employer, and I was about to kiss him when you interrupted. I can't blame you for wanting to rescue him, of course, but it you've arrived at an extraordinary inopportune moment. Now, if you'd kindly step out of the room, I'd like to continue where I left off.” 

Rita sputters. Her face goes pink. She can't seem to decide between disapproval and excitement. “Ooh Mista Steel- I was worried about you- all night- I told you not to go to the Kanagawa’s place, not after what we did for Cassie- and now you're here with this extremely beautiful man- you coulda called- this is ridiculous- and I have a case for you- and-”

Nureyev unfolds his long legs from the bed and calmly takes Rita by the shoulders and steers her towards the door. “What are you doing?” she cries. “I don't even know what's going on here! Get off me!” 

“Give us five minutes here, Rita. Then we'll explain everything, I promise.”

She turns to face him. “Five minutes?”

“Five minutes. There's coffee in the kitchen, if you want some.”

She lowers her voice to a rather loud whisper. “Are you gonna sweep Mista Steel off his feet all romantic-like when you kiss him?” 

“Perhaps I will,” Nureyev says. 

“Ooh.” Her face goes even redder, and she stifles a giggle. “Five minutes, then.” And she waves at me and allows him to propel her out the door and shut it behind her. 

I stand up and walk over to him. “Consider yourself lucky she didn't brain you with that baseball bat.” 

He looks thoughtful. “Lovely girl, Rita. I think we’ll be good friends.”

“I'm sure the pair of you will be a regular fount of hopeless optimism.”

“You'd hate that, wouldn't you? You're still the cynic against the big, mean world. Some things never change.” 

“If you know your life's a joke you can laugh along with the universe…” I trail off as he steps towards me, close enough that my breath catches. One slender hand cups my face, and he smiles at me, sharp teeth visible through his lips. 

“Juno.”

“Yes?” 

He kisses me. 

The bedroom, the apartment, the whole world melts away under his touch. A thousand lonely dreams can't compare to the feeling of Peter Nureyev’s mouth on mine. It's a long moment before he pulls away, and when he does I sway a little on the spot, like some sort of stupid character from one of Rita’s soaps. He chuckles, his hands on my back steadying me. Goddamn Peter Nureyev. 

“I've missed that,” I tell him. 

“You only want me for my fantastic kissing abilities, do you?” he queries, face arranged in a mock pout which is pretty damn tempting, if I'm being honest with myself. And why not be honest?

“Among other things,” I say, and then I pull him down and kiss him again. 

It's no surprise that I thought I was dreaming last night. Over the last few months I've had so many dreams about him. Often they were full of fear and pain. Him leaving me. Me leaving him. A dark tomb where he screamed in agony, begging me to make it stop. I couldn't help him. I watched him die a hundred times. But sometimes there were dreams like this- red morning sun through the blinds and the smell of coffee and his hands resting on my waist and and another kiss and another and another.

And as all of this is going on a thought comes into my head. A stupid thought, maybe. I won't ever tell anyone. I won’t tell Peter, not unless he asks. (Right now I think I'd do anything for him if he asked.) But he doesn't ask. He just keeps kissing me and stroking my hair and whispering how happy he is to see me again. And my thought is this: sometimes, at least for a moment, dreams do come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned next for more love. And more Rita. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure love getting inside Rita's head. Also, I love the dynamic between all three of these wonderfully ridiculous characters. Hope everyone has as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it. It's a pretty short one compared to last time, but I've resigned myself to the fact that my chapter lengths are going to be super inconsistent.

It must have been five minutes by now. 

I check the clock. One minute and forty-two seconds. That's fifteen seconds later than it was last time I checked. I wonder for a moment if time is slowing down. Maybe I’ll spend eons trapped in this moment in Mister Steel’s apartment, just like in that old-timey radio show, when Hester Robert and Chelt Whitman got stuck in the time bubble, and I'll never ever ever get out- 

No, it was all dark and black in that time bubble, and everything seems normal here. Obviously this isn't a time bubble. 

Maybe I need some coffee. I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a cup, then look through the cupboards to find milk and sugar. Mister Steel makes fun of me for putting so much in my coffee. He drinks his bitter and black, but I think that might have something to do with his whole self esteem issue. He doesn't like letting himself have good things. It's a shame. He's a good person. He deserves more than he thinks. 

Well, he isn't denying himself right now, is he? I stifle a giggle. Probably he's enjoying himself a whole lot. With Rex Glass. Who would have thought? 

I never learned exactly what happened with the whole Kanagawa case. Mister Steel never liked talking about it, even when we were working to get Cassie off the planet. It bugged me, not knowing, but it seemed like a sensitive subject. I know that Rex Glass the Dark Matters agent was not who he said he was. I know he stole the mask and escaped from the police after getting turned in. He was a good looking one, and he said some real nice things to me. Probably he tricked Juno the same way. I've seen that trick in so many movies. 

I'm still a little suspicious, knowing my boss has a thing with a sweet-talking criminal, but not as much as I would be if not for the way he looked at Juno. I may have failed in my high school career as an actor-something about needing “poise” and “subtlety”- but I know sincerity when I see it, and whoever that man really is, he loves Mister Steel. 

Maybe he is like Susie from Death to the Producer. That's one of my favorite movies. Caz sure was surprised when he learned she was a rebel spy, but then he realized her side was trying to topple the evil government, and he joined them. And then he fell in love with her. But she was already in love with Caz’s cousin Vanessa. Anyway, Rex doesn't look much like Susie. She's played by that actor with the full, curly hair and big brown eyes.

Rex is pretty in a different way. Long legs, sleek hair, sharp teeth- no, no, no! I can't think about him like that, not when he’s currently professing his love to Mister Steel right now in this very apartment! It's indecent. And disrespectful. And probably goes against my employment contract. There must be something about this in there. Thy shall not covet thy boss’s boyfriend, or something. 

Not that I want to date him or anything, no way. I want him and Juno to be happy, and I've got my eye on that cute new member of my book club. (They complimented my shoes last Tuesday. I'm sure there's something there between us.) As long as all that's true, there's no harm in appreciating Rex, right? The same way I appreciate Susie every time she's on the show, even though I totally ship her with Vanessa. 

My thoughts are interrupted when the bedroom door opens and the two of them join me in the kitchen. They are holding hands, the thief’s long fingers laced through Juno’s scarred knuckles. It's adorable, honestly. I grin at them. Rex grins back, looking immensely satisfied. Juno attempts a grimace, but achieves only an embarrassed smile. 

“How did it go?” I ask. 

“Rita, this is none of your business.” Juno releases Rex’s hand and turns away to rummage in the fridge, looking for something breakfast-worthy among the random food items inside. 

Rex sits at the table across from me. “It went very well,” he says. 

“You kissed him?”

“Oh, yes.” 

“Ooooooh.” 

“Shut up Rita,” Juno calls over his shoulder. “And shut up-” he pauses- “you.” 

“I still don't know your real name,” I say. 

“No, you don't,” he replies. 

I wait. He says nothing. “Well,” I say, “what should I call you, then?” 

“You can call me anything you like, Rita,” he says, in a tone a little too sultry for my liking. 

I cross my arms. “Don't you take that tone with me. I ain't falling for your tricks again.” 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. You can call me Rex, if you want. Or whatever name you prefer.” 

“I'm going to find out who you are,” I tell him. “I'm an expert researcher.” 

“I'm sure you are.” He doesn't quite believe me. Well, we’ll see about that. I'm sure I've seen his face on some classified government register somewhere. In connection with the Johnston case, maybe, or the Hermes robberies. That's the thing about information- it's all out there, if you bother to look, and even the best criminals are depending on the fact that no one will look hard enough. That was before any of them met me, of course. 

“I will find you.” I give him my best steely glare, the one I practice in the mirror sometimes. “Until then, you can be Rex.” 

Juno sits down next to Rex with a package of something that I’m absolutely sure isn't on the Healthy Meal Chart that Franny has hanging up in her kitchen. Rex puts his arm around Juno’s waist and kisses his cheek. And yes, I might squeal a little bit, but can you blame me? This is so adorable. I couldn't make it up if I tried. 

Juno’s blushing pretty bad, and he announces that he hates us both. And his man- not really Rex, but that's all I have to go on for now- says that since we both love him so he'll have to put up with it. Juno isn't big on showing emotion, but he looks down at the ground and lets out a little breath through his nose, and I've known him for so long that I think I've got a pretty good handle on just how good this man makes him feel. And then he asks me to tell him the details of the next case, and I tell him. I have a feeling that it's going to be a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned next for a stakeout and some juicy gossip about the archbishop of Ceres.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it’s been a few months, but I finally got the inspiration to write a couple new chapters. Hopefully they’re entertaining. Also, I should note that although there will be a case happening in the background I have no intention of actually describing any of the details. Kudos to everyone who does that, but I don’t have the energy to think up a mystery for my feel-good fic. Happy reading!

I’m with Juno again. The thought keeps coming into my head, and each time I can't quite believe it. I'm with him. He and I. Me and him. This morning he took me back. This morning I held him close and kissed him into a daze in the bedroom of his apartment. Today we worked together. Rita filled us in on the details of the case she'd gotten called about last night as I waited for Juno to stagger back to his apartment. It's a low-stakes one, and that's probably a good thing. 

She left us alone to read up on Juno’s newest job. (I've taken on the role of consultant for this one, because why not?) I'll admit, I was useless. Why would I want to pore over types of stationary and eggplant allergies when Juno was beside me, all unpolished beauty and uncut edges? He is not a queen, no. There is no stiff poise in him. He is a rough ocean, a nighttime storm with unbrushed hair caught up in an old T-shirt, and all I want to do is soak myself in his rainfall. 

I'm with Juno, and I can whisper in his ear just to see him blush and spin him around just to hear him laugh. I can kiss him whenever I want, unrestrained by ulterior motives or dramatic occasions. Juno is still shy in his demands, still afraid that any weakness he shows will be used against him. I want to tell him that I would never hurt him. That I'd give anything to make him happy. For now, I try to let my actions speak for me.

Juno rises to meet me every time I lean in. 

In short, we got very little work done before Juno’s meeting with the client. Which brings me to here and now, sitting in a car painted a gaudy shade of purple outside of a large townhouse in an upscale part of Hyperion city, and across from me...

Rita looks up from her tablet. “Luo Xiaolong.” 

“My, that is a walk down memory lane.” I don't try to deny it. Luo Xiaolong is the third of my aliases she's uncovered in the thirty minutes we've been sitting here waiting for Juno to get out of his meeting. None of them are particularly important ones- Xiaolong is registered as a special consultant to the board of public health at Proxima B, left over from a heist I pulled there almost a decade ago. I keep him around in case he ever comes in handy for access to health information or to gain the trust of harried government workers. But Rita’s been gradually working her way towards longer-buried names. 

I spent a long time disconnecting myself from Peter Nureyev. That name is little more than a long shadow over Brahama now, a few grainy seconds of security footage and the terrified eyewitness accounts of a couple of guards. But I get the feeling she's determined to find me, and wonder if it's possible for to work through my web of false stories to discover the truth. If anyone can do that, I think it might be Rita. 

It's funny- usually I feel nameless. When I go out in search of adventure I build up a system of facts and quirks and tie it off with a fake name. Each week is a new alias. Everyone I meet calls me by something different. In those times I don't think of myself as Peter. He's someone I left behind long ago. I'm just me, floating through space and time, unconnected to anything, really. Juno’s the only one in a long time to use my name- he calls me Nureyev most of the time. He calls me Peter when he doesn't think before speaking. Either way, my old name doesn't sound so unfamiliar on his lips. I hear him say it, and my thought is, “Yes, that's me.” 

“Florence Tournsey, huh? That's a name if I've ever heard one,” Rita says. 

“Ah, yes. That was a fun one.”

Soon Juno will be back, and later we'll be alone again, and I've been dying to really get my teeth into him all day, to pin him down and show him exactly how real my feelings are. There's a spot on his collarbone where I want to kiss him, a curve to his waist that I want to run my fingers along because I know it will make him shiver. Oh, Juno. I want to take him apart piece by piece, if he'll let me. I want to-

“Hey! Mister fancy names! Florence Toursey! You need to stop that.”

“I'm sorry, Rita.” I really try to bring myself down to earth this time. My, he makes me useless. I focus on her across the car. “What does Florence Tournsey need to stop doing?” 

She looks down at her tablet. “Well, Florence needs to quit sneaking into the private office of the archbishop of Ceres,” her eyes flicker across the screen, “and flirting with him, and-” Suddenly she goes red and starts giggling, and I remember exactly what I did while using that name. “Ooooh,” she says. Then again. “Ooooooh. That's pretty weird. Did he really ask you to do that?” 

“Well. Yes. I was after his jewels, at the time, not that he knew. And it’s actually a very common sexual practice on Ceres, for some reason. They think it stems from the early days of colonization, when everyone lived in tightly sealed pods and consumed nutrient slurry… Anyway, how are you getting all this?” 

“Tell your friend the archbishop that it’s really not safe to keep his diary online,” Rita says. “The encryption’s the same on all of them, and it's a joke, really. I cracked it when I was bored one weekend a while back. And I'm not a snoop, but sometimes it's just so interesting to see how the archbishop of Ceres feels about…” she looks at the tablet again, “Okay, wow. I don't want to judge, but that's a little extreme.” 

“Rita, I know for a fact that the security on a Sirius Cybernetics journal account is better than that of most major banks. It's certainly not a joke. It would take a genius to create a universal solution.” 

Rita giggles again. “Pfft, stop flattering me. It was just a basic brute force attack except using the company backdoor to get around the firewall and a little bit of code-breaking to get through the waterwall, except for the modified Saturnian cipher I used—”

She’s interrupted by the car door slamming open. “Rita, drive!” Juno shouts, sliding into the seat beside me. 

“Boss, what’s going on?” Rita yelps. “Did you talk to Mrs. Zummo yet?”

“I’ll explain later. Right now, you need to drive.” 

“Mista Steel, I told you I ain’t gonna be your getaway driver anymore!” Rita sighs, but she obediently steps on the gas pedal and the car leaps forward. From the townhouse behind us I hear angry shouting. 

“I thought this was going to be an easy case,” I say. 

“I never seem to get the easy cases,” Juno replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Peter plays detective.
> 
> ((p.s. I also have No Idea what fetish the archbishop of ceres has))


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s going to get a little saucy here. Nothing indecent, but consider yourselves forewarned.

It just doesn't make sense. 

I stare intently at the documents in my hands, my feet tracking a short course across my living room floor. The pieces are all there, I can feel it. I'm just missing something. Something obvious. There is a connection stretching into this mystery, and I can understand it all if I just figure out these damn letters- 

“How long are you going to be pacing back and forth with those papers?” 

“Until I know what they mean.” I don't look at him. I need to stay focused, and I'm sure he's lounging on my couch in a very distracting manner. It's his nature. 

“How long will that be?” 

“As long as it takes. I may have few virtues, Nureyev, but I'm not a quitter.” 

“On the contrary. You overwork yourself, darling.” His voice is suddenly right behind me. The stupid burglar can walk without making a sound when he wants to. I don't have time to turn before his arms encircle me from behind.

“What are you doing?” I ask. 

“I just want to be helpful.” 

“You're just trying to distract me, and you know it.” 

“Sometimes distraction can be an excellent way to come up with new ideas, you know.” His voice is low; I can feel his breath against the side of my neck. 

“Somehow, I doubt the distraction you have in mind would help.”

“You think so little of me?” Silken lips press against that spot behind my ear, and he trails several slow, soft kisses down my neck. I feel the slightest impression of sharp teeth at the top of my shoulder and an embarrassingly shaky breath escapes me. Peter laughs, a low chuckle that is simultaneously familiar and dangerous. 

“I think you should give yourself a break,” he whispers, and one of his hands trails— slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world— down my side to brush the top of my hip. 

I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right, but work is the farthest thing from my mind right now. Now his mouth is on my neck again, and his long fingers press more securely against my hip, pulling me closer to him. “Nureyev—” I mumble. 

“Juno,” he murmurs, and god damn, the way he says my name. I turn and kiss him, hard, and I’m satisfied that now he’s the one off balance— he lets out a little gasp against my mouth, and then his arms tighten around me and he kisses me back. The papers sit forgotten on the desk. 

 

It's much later when I think about them again. I'm curled up in my bed, Peter beside me. He's already unconscious, his hand still draped over my waist. Dim flashes of neon and headlights from outside the window paint shifting patterns on his skin. I watch the light roll over the curve of his nose and the angled ridge of his cheekbone. I'm an insomniac at the best of times; tonight my mind spins in circles. Warm feelings are joined by cool doubts and cold, hard facts, and that's when I see the plan in all its convoluted glory. I sit bolt upright, suddenly wide awake. The invitation. The unexpected bond. The poison, cunningly spread on the inside of the envelope. The reason Mrs. Zummo wouldn’t tell me where she was on the night of the crime. It all makes sense-

“Juno?” Peter’s looking up at me, and his eyes are sleepy but wide. Scared, almost. 

“I just remembered something,” I tell him. “I think I figured out this case.” 

“You're not- you're not leaving?” 

“No. No, I'm not.” I lay back down next to him, letting my hand drift up to chase a slow bar of light along his face. “I promise you I won't leave for as long as you want me to stay.” 

“Then you'll never need to leave,” he murmurs. He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, lingers there for a while like he wants to leave an imprint on my skin. “Never, ever, ever.” 

“I’ll stay. You can trust me.” 

“I mostly trust you.” He moves closer to me, settling again under my old blankets- worn, but still soft. His arm goes back around my waist. I realize he's anchoring himself to me, holding on so that he’ll know if I get up. His eyes begin to drift closed. “You know I love you.”

There's a lump in my throat, an ache in my chest. “I know. I love you too, Peter.” The case can wait. I lean into him, close my eyes and let him pull me away into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the end. 
> 
> I know there’s a lot I’m leaving unresolved here, and I definitely might return to this same universe to address these issues in the future. If so, I’ll probably post it as a new fic. As of now I’ve done what I wanted to with this storyline, and I feel like it’s done. I’m actually quite proud of it, and I hope you all enjoyed it and that my extremely sporadic posting schedule hasn’t thrown anyone off. Honestly the responses I’ve gotten have all been so sweet and amazing, thank you all so much for that. 
> 
> Feel free to check out my page for my other penumbra fic or contact me if you have any prompts you think I might want to do, or just to say hi!


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